


ghosts plucking at my heartstrings

by ADreamingSongbird



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, eiji voice: "mom said it's MY turn on the trauma-induced nightmares!!!", not to worry however! he has an esa (emotional support ash)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27097564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamingSongbird/pseuds/ADreamingSongbird
Summary: How horrible must a person be, to be scared of the one who died trying to protect them?Ash Lynx goes shopping for home appliances at eight in the morning. There's a great explanation for this, surely.
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 54
Kudos: 303





	ghosts plucking at my heartstrings

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: guilt spirals, depression/irrational thoughts, discussion of violence/trauma, survivor's guilt.

In the middle of the night, Eiji jerks awake, his heart pounding and his throat clogged with unshed tears.

This isn’t unusual. It’s been two years since he returned from America, but he still has nightmares fairly often—often enough that he knows to expect them, every single time he has an emotional day, and even sometimes when he doesn’t. He’s used to waking up with a silent scream rising in his throat, crushed under the phantom weight of Shorter’s body, or with the ghost of pain like he’s never felt before radiating from the bullet scar in his side.

What _is_ unusual is…

Eiji doesn’t roll over to look, but he can hear Ash’s soft breaths as he sleeps behind him, curled up against his back.

That’s new.

Ash has only been here for—for less than a week—and Eiji doesn’t know what to think. Of course he’d still wake up like this even after Ash gets here.

His stomach churns. Ash’s forehead against the back of his neck is a red-hot brand.

Eiji slips out of bed.

His head is cloudy and full of dread, and in the silence of the night, he swears he can still hear Shorter’s screams. Komaba is a great place to live, most days, but sometimes, he wishes he was downtown, in the heart of Shibuya, just so that the constant noise of cars and people and streets could drown out his mind.

God. It really is a mark that Ash was telling the truth—that he can sleep well, if he’s with Eiji—that despite Eiji climbing out of bed, he hasn’t stirred. Good; he’s had a long week, and he needs his rest. More than just a long week, really; Ash hasn’t caught a break in the past several years, and Eiji’s heart aches for him. He needs to rest.

It’s better this way. Ash needs rest, and if he’s asleep while Eiji has a panic attack, he won’t be worried about it.

This is the problem with getting used to living alone, Eiji thinks, pulling on sweatpants and a hoodie with shaking hands in the dark. He’s used to being able to just break down without worrying about anyone else seeing. What a luxury.

But now Ash is in his bed, in _their_ bed, and he can’t stay here, or else he’ll scream. Luckily, he’s used to this, too; granted, it usually doesn’t happen so late at night, but he has a solution for the times when his skin starts to crawl, and his stomach threatens to turn itself inside out, and his heart tries to shudder out of his chest.

Eiji slips out of the bedroom, holding the doorknob and twisting it painstakingly slowly so it makes no sound, and takes a shaky breath. He thinks about sitting in the bathroom to cry it out, but that’s too risky—Ash might wake up and find him, and he can’t have that—so he keeps going with his initial plan.

His keys jingle softly when he takes them from the hook, and he freezes. But Ash doesn’t seem to notice, from behind the bedroom door, and he lets out a soft sigh in relief. He picks up his water bottle, opens the front door as quietly as he can, and escapes into the night.

Komaba Park is a good place to run. It’s not too large, but it’s right next to campus, and the circular path around the middle makes it easy to run laps. He loses himself in the pounding of his feet against the dirt, in going past the same trees over and over again, in the thundering of his own heartbeat, and only stops for a break when he’s breathing so hard that his throat hurts.

He stops. Sips his water. Breathes, for a moment. Then he starts to run again.

He runs until he can’t think. Until the only pain is the familiar burn in his legs. Until the static in his head turns to blessed, blessed silence. His ankle hurts, but he runs a little more anyway.

He’s sweaty and exhausted and finally, finally feels a little more at ease in his own skin, by the time he rounds the corner and sees his apartment building rising up in front of him.

Then he pauses.

The lights in his living room are on.

His heart sinks, and he nearly turns around and runs back down the street, back to Komaba Park, back just to get away from what he’s sure is waiting for him—a lecture, no doubt, and some fussing, to boot. Both well-intentioned, but he’s certain if he has to deal with anyone, even Ash talking at him, upset with him, or god forbid trying to touch him, he’ll scream.

But… no. He isn’t sure exactly what time it is, but the sun is probably going to be up soon; he should get back before daybreak, and if this confrontation is going to happen no matter what, he may as well get it over with immediately.

The anxiety in his gut and the prickling feeling under his skin come back with every step he climbs up the stairs, and by the time he reaches the fifth floor his legs feel leaden. Maybe he’ll just sit down on the walkway before going in. Maybe he’ll just fall asleep on the concrete, and that way he won’t have to explain _I had to go for a run so I wouldn’t break down crying and wake you up._

And then he ended up waking Ash up anyway, useless piece of shit that he is.

God, he’s so tired of himself.

When he opens the door, Ash is on his feet in front of the couch, waiting. He looks calm. Too calm.

“Tadaima,” Eiji manages, voice flat.

“Okaeri,” Ash says levelly. “Onii-san. Couldn’t you have at least taken your phone with you?”

“It was plugged in behind you,” Eiji says stiffly, “and I did not want to wake you up.”

 _Yeah, and what a great job of that you did,_ he can practically hear Ash say. He braces himself for it, ready to curl in on himself and take it, and—

“Oh, Eiji,” Ash says, more softly, and then steps forward. “What happened?”

Oh no.

Oh no, no no no—he can’t make his voice go all soft like that and look at Eiji with genuine concern! Not when Eiji is still feeling fragile, and exhausted now on top of it, and he can’t fight off the tears for very long. No, no no no.

“I just went for a run,” Eiji says, and bows robotically out of habit. “I am sorry to have worried you.”

“At three in the morning?” Ash folds his arms over his chest. “It’s nearly five, and I’ve been waiting for over an hour. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Eiji pulls away from her and stalks to his bedroom to get a change of clothes, ignoring the heavy weight of Ash’s gaze on his back. “I am going to take a shower.”

When he gets to the bathroom, however, Ash is sitting on the edge of the tub, legs crossed. He still has the warm, caring look in his eyes, and dread courses through Eiji’s blood. He really can’t do this.

“Ash, I am trying to take a shower,” he says, a little desperately. “Please go.”

“That must’ve been some nightmare.” Ash looks at him, gaze piercing. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Why didn’t he wake him up? Because the idea of making Ash comfort him over whose fault Shorter’s death was is—is _awful._ It’s so stupid and shitty it makes the nausea in his stomach spike up his throat, and he swallows hard against it, eyes watering.

“I want to take a shower,” he repeats, and looks away. “Please go.”

“Eiji.” Ash stands up from the tub wall, but instead of leaving, he comes closer, reaching for him, and Eiji has to fight the sudden urge to flee again as Ash’s fingers brush his cheek. “Please don’t shut me out.”

“Ash!” Eiji stamps his foot, turning away. “Please! Just get out!”

“You’re hurting!” Ash accuses, though he drops his hand back to his side. “And you want me to just walk away?”

Eiji turns his face up to him to glare. “Yes!”

Ash inhales sharply.

“Is it my fault?” he asks, more quietly, shoulders slumping. “Is this—is this because I was gone for so long? I… If you don’t trust me anymore, I get it.”

Eiji hugs his clothes to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut. “That’s not it, Ash,” he manages. “But this is something you cannot help me with, so please just—please just leave me alone for now.”

Ash sighs, the fight draining out of him. “Okay,” he says, and hesitates. “Eiji…”

“I trust you.” Eiji doesn’t open his eyes. “But I just need… I just need to deal with this on my own. Please.”

“Okay.” Ash’s shoulder brushes against him as he walks past to get out of the bathroom. “Would you… no, never mind. Ignore me.”

Every fiber of Eiji’s soul screams at him to chase after that half-swallowed question. But the exhaustion dragging his bones into the mire keeps him from opening his mouth, and when he opens his eyes, Ash is gone.

Okay.

Fine.

Whatever.

He turns on the shower.

Under the hot water, he finally lets the tears flow. If only he could turn the pressure higher, and higher, maybe then the phantom weight on his chest would feel real, and maybe once realized, it would leave him alone. Right now, all he can think of is the way Shorter screamed, and the way he collapsed.

Eiji chokes on a sob.

Every single time he has this nightmare, he hates himself a little more. Shorter—Shorter put his life on the line for him. Shorter protected him. Shorter only ended up in that awful, awful mansion at all because he chose to risk everything to try and keep him safe. And yet Eiji has the gall to be _scared_ of him?

He can never tell Ash. He’s a coward, but he knows if he saw the same disgust he feels toward himself mirrored in Ash’s eyes, he would break.

He can never, ever tell Ash.

“Shorter,” he whispers, hugging himself under the spray. “Shorter, I am sorry, I am sorry, I am so, so, so sorry…”

He cries for what feels like an eternity but is probably only a few minutes, halfheartedly washes himself, and then sinks to the tub floor, hugging his knees to his chest. He should get out and face Ash, but he’s _exhausted._

But apparently, he cried for longer than he thought, because only a few minutes into him staring listlessly at the faucet, there’s a loud knock on the door, and then Ash’s voice drifts through the wood. “Eiji? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Eiji calls back quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. “Fine.”

“Okay,” Ash answers, but he sounds dubious even though he doesn’t question him further.

Shit. God fucking dammit. Can’t he just break down in peace? Does he have to be a burden to Ash even now?

He heaves a deep sigh and drags himself to his feet, and turns the water off.

Ash is lounging on the couch again, when Eiji leaves the bathroom. He looks indolent and relaxed, except for the sharp look in his eye that says he’s not about to let Eiji off the hook. Eiji looks away.

He still can’t believe Ash is really here. Why did he come? How did he not realize that Yut-Lung was right?

Not entirely right. But partly right.

Wrong about Ash not needing friendship or bonds. Right about Eiji being a weakness and a detriment to him. Ash needs people who will love and support him endlessly, but he never needed _Eiji_ to be one of those people.

How did Ash not realize that?

Eiji would do anything for him. He’d take another bullet for him in a heartbeat. But Ash doesn’t need him, does he? He’s nothing special. And of course it’s not that he doesn’t want Ash! He’s overjoyed that Ash is here, because god knows he loves him, but… but…

“You’re staring,” Ash murmurs, and Eiji jumps.

“Sorry.”

He hesitates for a long moment. He doesn’t want to talk about it, because Ash will hate him, but Ash doesn’t seem willing to give him much of a choice in the matter. If only he had more rooms in this apartment; if he goes to the bedroom, Ash will just follow him, and he can’t lock the door without consigning Ash to sleep on the shitty couch.

“Eiji.” Ash’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “C’mere.”

Heart heavy and head clouded, Eiji trudges to the couch like it’s his own execution. Ash holds out an arm with a tiny, tentative smile, and Eiji is too tired and sad to shut him out completely anymore. He settles in against his side and quietly tucks his head against his shoulder, and Ash wraps his arm around his waist and just holds him.

Oh, god. Ash is holding him, and it’s… nice. It’s really, really nice.

“You scared me.”

“I am sorry.” Eiji closes his eyes, exhausted. “I did not think I would be gone for very long. I just needed to clear my head.”

“It’s okay.” Ash leans his cheek against his hair. “What do you need right now?”

“Nothing.” Eiji swallows hard. He doesn’t need anything—this is already so much. He thought Ash would be upset with him, would interrogate him, would be angry that he wasted his time and worry. “Sorry.”

“You still just really like apologizing, huh.” Ash taps two fingers against his side. “Don’t keep saying sorry. You sound tired. D’you wanna go back to bed?”

“I am tired,” Eiji agrees softly, pressing his hands to his temples. If he gets back in bed, he won’t have to face Ash’s gentle worry, right? “Maybe I will sleep again.”

“We can do that. But if you wake up again, tell me, this time.” Ash rubs a slow circle into his hip. “Don’t just run off and leave me to wake up and wonder what happened, okay?”

Eiji swallows another _I’m sorry_ and just peeps up at him uncertainly. Did he have a nightmare, too? Did he try to turn to him for comfort and instead found an empty bed? Guilt rears up in his mind, ugly and jagged and loud. “What woke you?”

“Last of the jetlag, I think.” Ash offers a tiny smile. “It’s alright.”

“Oh.” Eiji looks away again. “Okay.”

“C’mon.” Ash gets to his feet. Eiji’s sad, weak heart misses the warmth and weight of his embrace immediately. “Let’s get you back in bed, ‘kay?”

“Yeah.”

Back in the bedroom, Ash closes the door behind them, and then turns and looks at him. “Eiji?”

Eiji meets his eyes only for a moment before letting his gaze fall back to the floor. “Yes?”

Ash’s voice is low. “Do you have nightmares like this a lot?”

Eiji shrugs. “Sometimes,” he says, and then sighs. “I am sorry. I did not mean to disturb you. If you want to rest better, I can sleep on the couch, so—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ash scoffs, and then sighs. “Eiji… you know I have nightmares all the time, too.”

“Yes, but…” Eiji trails off. How does he express that it’s different without Ash trying to argue back that it isn’t? He knows he’s right, just as much as he knows Ash will think he’s not. It’s different, because Eiji is already a burden, and this is just him adding to the list of ways people have to deal with him. The way _Ash_ has to deal with him.

“Next time, you can wake me up,” Ash says, gentler this time. “No matter how late it is or how tired I am or anything. Okay?”

Eiji bites his lip as he sinks down to sit on the edge of the bed. He already knows he won’t take Ash up on that, but it’s a kind offer nonetheless. “Okay.”

“You still look sad.” Ash sits next to him, takes his hand, and rubs his thumb over his knuckles. “Do you wanna tell me about it?”

Shorter’s face flashes through Eiji’s mind—first laughing around a mouthful of Cheetos, at some nameless gas station in the Midwest, and then contorted in pain and horror, as he convulsed in the chair in the lab—and Eiji flinches as if struck. Shorter died for him, and he woke up afraid of him.

What kind of horrible person is he?

“I can’t,” he manages, and tears spring to his eyes all over again. Really? He thought he cried himself out over this in the shower. “I can’t, Ash, you’ll hate me!”

“What?” Ash sounds bewildered. “What do you—No, Eiji, there’s no way. There’s no universe out there where it’s even possible for me to hate you.”

“I can’t,” Eiji repeats desperately. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”

“Okay, okay!” Ash squeezes his hand tight. “It’s okay. You don’t have to. But I promise you I could literally never hate you, Eiji, and if that’s the only thing holding you back from talking about it, you can tell me, because I—I love you, okay? I love you more than anything.”

Eiji gasps for breath, chest suddenly aching from the effort to hold back a sob. “Ash?” he pleads, his voice tiny and pathetic. “Ash, please…”

“Yes?” Ash rubs his thumb over the base of Eiji’s. “What is it?”

“Hold me,” Eiji whispers, and slumps into his arms. “Please.”

Ash’s arms wrap around him, strong and warm and comforting, and Eiji grits his teeth hard against the tears that try to claw their way up his throat. He won’t cry again. He won’t. He just clutches at Ash’s shirt and buries his face in his neck and shudders, and Ash hugs him tight.

“I’m here,” Ash murmurs, and presses a kiss into his hair. “I’m right here, Eiji.”

“Why?” Eiji asks, a little ragged. “Why did you come here?”

Ash stiffens slightly, and belatedly Eiji realizes how accusatory that question sounds. “Did… did you not want me to?”

“No!” Eiji’s hand curls into a fist in his T-shirt. “I just—I don’t—you could have gone _anywhere._ To Max, to America, to your gang. Why… why did you pick here?”

“Oh.” Ash relaxes again, and then his arms move, and Eiji lets out a tiny breathless squeak of surprise as Ash pulls him into his lap and hugs him _tight_. “That’s easy. Nowhere else had you.”

“But—but why me?” Eiji asks desperately, face buried in his hair. “I am not—I am not that important, and—”

“Eiji.” Ash sounds almost distressed, and his arms tighten again. “How can you say that?”

Eiji is silent. It’s just the truth.

“Eiji,” Ash presses. He doesn’t sound happy. “You really think you’re not important?”

“Forget it.” Eiji pulls away and tries to push at his chest to make him let go, but Ash holds on stubbornly. “Ash, let me go.”

“I don’t want to.” Ash loosens his arms anyway, and Eiji moves out of his lap to crawl under the covers, facing the wall. “Eiji, please.”

“Drop it, Ash!” Eiji draws the blanket up to his chin and curls into a ball. He loathes himself so much in this moment that he can taste it, a bitter tang coating the back of his throat. “I will stop acting like this after I sleep. It is not important, so just forget I said anything, okay?”

"Eiji,” Ash says, a little desperately, and touches his shoulder. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing! Go back to sleep, Ash.” Eiji curls in tighter on himself. Ash sounds plaintive and distressed, and he _hates_ himself for making Ash upset. God. Why did he have to run? Why couldn’t he have just lain here in silence and suffered without disturbing Ash? Why does he always fuck everything up no matter what he does?

“Eiji,” Ash begs.

Eiji squeezes his eyes shut. The weight on his chest is back, and his hands feel sticky with the ghosts of blood. His mind is determined to remind him of the _terror_ that struck him to the bone when Shorter charged at him with that knife, and he—god, he wishes so fucking hard that he could trade places with Shorter, that he could have died so Shorter would live, and Ash would still have his best friend.

“Can I—at least, can I hold you?” Ash sounds a little lost. “Even if you won’t talk to me. You don’t even have to look at me. I just—I just wanna hold you. Please, Eiji.”

The lump in the back of his throat grows. Eiji swallows hard. “Ash…”

He rolls over, so full of self-loathing and despair and disgust that his chest hurts, and uncurls just enough to reach for Ash’s hand, to wrap his hand around Ash’s finger.

Ash lets out a soft breath. “Eiji,” he murmurs, and he takes Eiji’s hand in both of his and holds it. Gentle, like he’s delicate.

Eiji wants to kick himself. He doesn’t deserve this.

“Eiji,” Ash repeats. “Eiji.”

“I’m sorry,” Eiji whispers, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“How do I convince you?” Ash lets out a soft breath and shakes his head. His eyes are sad. “You’re the most important person in the world, to me. I… I love you.”

 _You shouldn’t,_ Eiji almost says, but he bites his cheek to keep himself in check. That’s a horrible thing to say to his Ash. Instead he just tries to breathe steadily, fighting the tears that want to rise again—seriously? Why bother crying in the shower?—and squeezes his eyes shut again. “I know.”

“I want to take care of you.” Ash squeezes his hand. “Just tell me what you need me to do. I want to help.”

He lets go with one hand to turn the lamp off, and then slips under the blankets, too. Eiji stays still and lets him pull him into his arms. In the darkness, Ash’s embrace feels like forgiveness. He doesn’t deserve it.

“Is this okay?” Ash murmurs, holding him close. “Or do you want me to let go?”

“You are too kind to me,” Eiji whispers, trembling. “I do not deserve this.”

“You do.” Ash hugs him tighter and gently tangles their legs. “Darling, you can’t just hold everything in like this. Please let me in. One nightmare shouldn’t make you feel like this. It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“If I tell you what the nightmare was, you’ll hate me for it.” Eiji takes a shaky breath. “I hate me for it.”

“There’s nothing you could say that I’d hate you for.”

Ash brushes a gentle kiss to his forehead, and Eiji swallows a sob. It’s not fair that Ash makes his voice soft and gentle, and then kisses him so tenderly. It’s not fair, because it makes him want to break down and tell him _everything,_ and he can’t.

“No matter how horrifying it is, the fact that you hate it means that you’re good, Eiji. You can’t blame yourself for the things your nightmares throw at you.” Ash strokes his damp hair. “You can’t control them. You don’t choose them.”

Oh _no._ He can’t be logical on top of everything. Eiji shudders in his arms and gives in, because the other option is breaking down again, and he knows that’ll make Ash feel worse. He grabs at Ash’s shirt, buries his face in Ash’s neck, tries not to cry, and hoarsely begs, “Please don’t let go!”

“Oh, Eiji.” Ash folds him to his chest snugly. “I won’t. I’m not going anywhere, sweetie.”

Eiji nods against his shoulder and takes a deep, shaky breath. He misses Shorter. “Okay.”

“You wanna get some rest now?” Ash kisses his hair. “Or do you wanna talk?”

“Hold me,” Eiji whispers. It’s not an answer, because he doesn’t know what the answer is. “Please.”

Ash kisses his hair again. “I’ve got you, darling,” he promises, his voice tender and kind. “I’m right here, Eiji. I won’t let go. You’re safe.”

Safe.

No one is coming at him with a knife.

Safe.

He feels a little nauseous.

“I’m sorry for scaring you.” He swallows hard, again. He should do better. Ash doesn’t deserve to have to deal with this. “I will be better.”

“You’re already perfect.” Ash kisses his temple. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay. Sleep now. We can talk about it tomorrow, alright? Just rest now.”

“Okay.” Eiji takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He’s exhausted and wired and numb, all at once, and while sleep is unappealing because it holds the potential for more nightmares, the idea of being unconscious is growing more and more enticing. “Okay.”

“And if you need anything,” Ash adds, “wake me up. No matter how trivial. I mean it, okay?”

“Mm.” Eiji presses closer to him. He smells like home. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Ash brushes another kiss to his hair. “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything. Just close your eyes now, honey. Rest.”

Ash keeps calling him pet names tonight. _Sweetie_ and _honey_ and _darling_. His head is too full of fog to figure out what it means, and he can’t tell if each endearment makes him feel better or worse. Why does Ash love him so much?

“Okay,” he mumbles, finally, and closes his eyes.

Sleep comes much more swiftly than he thought it would, and he’s lucky this time, because it’s bleak and dreamless.

* * *

In the morning, Eiji wakes to an empty bed.

His first thought, stupid and irrational as it is, is that he dreamt the entire past week, and Ash never came to Japan, and he’s still alone. Emptiness saps at his already-sorrowful heart, and the numb fog clouding his mind grows thicker.

But that’s stupid. Right? That has to be wrong. Every time he dreamt of Ash before, it was only one day. And besides…

…Maybe he should just go back to sleep. Being conscious is exhausting.

But he can’t, so he slips out of bed, numb and afraid, and grabs the pink throw blanket from the back of his desk chair to use as a shawl before he opens the bedroom door. If his apartment is empty, he’ll be devastated.

But when he shuffles to the kitchen on sore, stiff legs, he hears the faint sound of something sizzling, and he stops short in the doorway.

Ash is at the stove, one hand on his hip as he stirs something, and the late morning light streaming in from the window haloes his head in gold. Two cups of coffee sit steaming on the countertop behind him, and there’s—

Eiji frowns.

He doesn’t own a toaster oven. Where did Ash get a toaster oven?

“Good morning.” Ash doesn’t turn around, but his voice is gentle. “Sleep okay?”

Eiji quietly shuffles over to him and lets his head drop against the back of his shoulder. “Mm.”

“You alright?” Ash glances over his shoulder at him, turns, and wraps one arm around his waist, drawing him against his chest. “You’re pale.”

“Wasn’t sure where you were.” Eiji leans against him and closes his eyes. It’s very sweet of him to be making breakfast, but all Eiji wants right now is to be close to him. He isn’t hungry, though he knows that after going for a long run he should be.

“Oh. Shit.” Ash turns the heater under the frying pan off, and Eiji glances down to see what he’s made. “Sorry. I didn’t think you were gonna wake up before I finished.”

Scrambled eggs.

He’s made coffee, scrambled eggs, and toast.

There really, truly is an American in his kitchen. The thought almost makes him laugh.

“It’s okay,” he says, smiling ruefully against Ash’s shoulder. “Thank you for making breakfast.”

“No problem.” Ash leans his cheek against his hair for a moment, holding him close, before he pulls back to scrape the eggs into two plates. “How’re you feeling?”

Eiji misses his warmth immediately. He shrugs it off and turns to the fridge to get milk for the coffee. “Fine.”

“Do you wanna talk about last night?”

Eiji pauses. Sets the carton down on the countertop. Sighs heavily. “No,” he says, but glances over his shoulder to see Ash watching him, green eyes sharp. “But I think you do.”

“You’re right. I do.” Ash nabs the toast (seriously, where did he get a toaster oven?) and adds it to the plates, then takes both and walks to the tiny dining table. “C’mon. We can eat, first.”

Uncomfortable now, Eiji doesn’t meet his gaze as he adds milk and sugar to their coffees—Ash likes his sweeter than Eiji does—and carries the mugs to the table. “Are you angry with me?”

“No.” Ash gives him an odd look as they sit down. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know.” Eiji shrugs. His shoulders feel heavy. “I just wanted to be sure.”

“Well, I’m not.” Ash breaks off a piece of toast and scoops eggs onto it, then leans over and holds it to Eiji’s mouth. “Here. Eat.”

Obediently, Eiji accepts the bite. It’s good—evenly salted, lightly peppered, with just a bit of cheese, but not enough to make it overly rich. Ash is a good cook, when he wants to be.

And… well… Eiji isn’t hungry, still, but… another bite couldn’t hurt. It does taste nice.

“It’s good. Thank you.” His voice is a little smaller than intended.

Ash stands up again, moves around the table, and settles his hand on Eiji’s shoulder. He gives him a gentle squeeze as he leans down, then presses a soft, lingering kiss to the top of his head.

It’s such a simple yet sweet gesture that Eiji’s heart falters. Ash is so tender with him, sometimes, that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Anytime, Eiji.” Ash bows his head against his hair, his nose bumping Eiji’s head, and holds him close; Eiji can feel the warmth of his skin through his thin T-shirt. “Glad you like it. Eat up.”

He starts to pull away, to go back to his breakfast, and really Eiji shouldn’t be selfish and should just let him, but the second Ash’s hand leaves his shoulder his poor, shaky heart cries out again, and—

He catches Ash’s wrist, looking up at him plaintively, and finds that there are no words in his mouth. He blinks.

“Oh.” Ash’s eyes soften, and then he smiles, lowering his hand back to Eiji’s shoulder. “Okay. That’s fine, too. Just a sec.”

What’s fine? That Eiji’s being a clingy idiot?

Ash lets go and steps away; Eiji drops his gaze back to his plate, ashamed. He shouldn’t keep being so needy. Ash’s food will get cold.

But Ash doesn’t sit back down. He pushes his plate across the table, next to Eiji’s, and moves his coffee, too, and then he takes his chair and pulls it around until it’s right next to Eiji, too, and _then_ he plops back down into it, languid and lean. He drapes his left arm about Eiji’s shoulders, and Eiji looks up, stunned.

“You don’t have to,” he manages.

“I know.” Ash gives him a gentle squeeze. “But I want to. Now eat before it gets cold, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eiji sighs. At least Ash is warm, and the world feels more stable and less shaky and distant, when Ash holds him. He slumps into Ash’s side and sighs.

They eat in a companionable silence. Thoughts swirl around in Eiji’s head, but Ash holds him so comfortably that none of them can find purchase; Ash is a shield, protecting him from his demons, just like Ash has always protected him, and Eiji is the useless little damsel hiding behind his brave knight.

And then the food is all gone, and their coffee finished, and Ash pulls away and gets up to clear the dishes, and Eiji’s soul cries out at the loss of his touch.

There’s clinking as Ash sets the plates and forks in the sink, and then he comes back over and rests his hand on Eiji’s shoulder. Eiji closes his eyes and leans against his stomach, suddenly exhausted all over again.

“Hey.” Ash’s fingers squeeze his shoulder, and his thumb rubs a slow circle. “What’s on your mind?”

Eiji’s voice is muffled. “…I’m tired.”

“I know, sweetie.”

Ash leans down and kisses the top of his head again, and it’s too much—Eiji turns in the chair and flings his arms around his neck and buries his face in his chest, suddenly swamped with the urge to cry. There’s a hollow void in the pit of his stomach, and his heart is shaky and fragile.

“Hold me,” Eiji begs desperately. “Please, please, please, Ash, don’t let go—"

“Hey,” Ash murmurs, and holds him. “Hey, I got you. It’s okay, darling.”

Eiji’s breath shudders in his throat, but he doesn’t cry. Not yet, anyway. He just inhales shakily and nods against Ash’s shirt, eyes squeezed shut, and clings to him. He can feel Ash’s heart beating, strong and steady.

“Honey, can I pick you up?” Ash asks after a moment. Eiji peeps up at him inquisitively. “Just to go to the couch. I don’t wanna let you go, but leaning over like this is gonna _kill_ my back.”

“And you call me the old man,” Eiji mumbles. The smile that tries to flicker across his face is little more than a ghost. “I can walk.”

“Okay.” Ash loosens his arms, standing upright again, and Eiji catches at his shirt desperately before he can stop himself.

Ash rests his hand gently atop his head again.

“I’m not leaving you.” His voice is gentle. “Come here.”

He keeps his hand on Eiji’s shoulder as Eiji gets to his feet, and the second he’s standing, Ash’s arm slips around his waist. Eiji swallows hard, wanting to burrow into his embrace immediately, but Ash said he wants to sit on the couch, so they have to make it there before Eiji can cling to him again.

Ash guides him to the couch, and somehow it’s only just a few steps, not the insurmountable expanse it seemed. And then Ash sits down and pulls him down into his lap, and—

Eiji collapses, crashing against him like a breaking wave, and chokes on a quiet, dry sob. He buries his face in Ash’s neck and clutches at him, trembling from the force of the tears he’s holding back, and whimpers. Why is he crying again? Didn’t he cry enough last night?

“Eiji…”

Ash holds him close, an anchor amid the raging storm. His arms are a safe haven, a harbor where Eiji can hide, and when his fingers start to stroke through Eiji’s hair, Eiji sags further, almost limp against him.

“Will you talk to me now, angel?” Ash’s voice is soft. He keeps stroking Eiji’s hair, slow and gentle, and Eiji closes his eyes, clinging to him. “What’s going on?”

“I—I don’t want you to hate me,” Eiji whispers. He can still see Shorter’s face in his memory, laughing as Eiji marvelled over every single exit in the Midwest looking the same. “I can’t lose you, I can’t, I can’t!”

“I told you.” Ash gives him a little squeeze. “I could never hate you. You won’t lose me. I swear.” He rests his hand on Eiji’s back, between his shoulder blades, and presses him close. Lying against him like this, Eiji can feel his heart beating. _I swear,_ it beats. _I swear, I swear, I swear._

Eiji takes a shaky breath, terrified and numb and sad and lost, and so, so tired. “I… had a nightmare,” he admits.

Breathes in. Breathes out. His heart is racing in his chest. Can Ash feel it, too?

“Yeah,” Ash prompts, after a moment, when Eiji hesitates too long for the pause to be natural. He strokes Eiji’s hair, resting his cheek against Eiji’s head. “Do you wanna tell me about it?”

Here they are. The moment of truth.

Time slows to molasses. The late morning sun in the windows feels empty and pale, and the shadows loom, vast and dark. Ash is all he’s got left as the world crumbles around him, fading into gray; if Ash lets him go, he’ll drown.

“It was about Shorter.”

Ash’s arms tighten like a vice.

Eiji sniffles against his neck, feeling another little dry sob building in his chest. “I—I was—when they—he had that knife and—and I couldn’t move and—and I was so _scared,_ Ash,” and there, the tears hit. When the sob chokes itself from his throat, he bursts into tears with it, crying hoarsely into Ash’s shirt. “I was s-so scared! I thought—I thought I would die!”

He lets out a pathetic, wordless wail and sobs again, crying so hard his throat hurts.

“I, I thought, I thought he w-would—he was going to—in the dream I—I couldn’t run and—and he was going—he was—I was so _scared,_ Ash, Ash, oh, god, _fuck!”_ He breaks off into a low, wordless cry, hoarse and brokenhearted, and clings to Ash desperately, tears leaking from his eyelashes into Ash’s shoulder. “Ash, Ash, Ash, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

 _“Eiji,”_ Ash murmurs. His voice is strained, and Eiji can’t look up at him because he’s crying too hard, but he doesn’t need to look up to know that Ash’s brows are furrowed with pain. “Eiji, Eiji, Eiji, you don’t need to be sorry, don’t you apologize, okay? It’s—it’s okay. It’s okay to be scared. I know you were, darling. I know. I know.”

“He—he _died_ to try and save me!” Eiji curls into Ash’s arms, trembling. “And—and yet I am—I am scared of him! I, I am, I—I _hate_ myself for it, I—”

“You almost died, too!”

Ash holds him so tight the greying world disappears. Eiji lets out a soft cry and clutches a pathetic handful of his shirt, and Ash holds him even tighter.

“Of course you’re fucked up by it! Birdie, _everything_ that happened to you that day was—it was all fucked up and traumatic. All of it. You can’t pick and choose which parts should and shouldn’t affect you when the entire thing was horrible!”

He pauses for a moment, and Eiji winces. He didn’t want Ash to feel guilty, didn’t want to remind Ash of one of the worst days of either of their lives.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so—”

“Stop.” Ash taps two fingers against his back. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I promise, my Eiji.”

 _My Eiji._ A sweet, simple endearment—just a possessive pronoun—and yet it seeps through the layers of panic and spiraling guilt into Eiji’s thundering heart. _My Eiji._

He’s Ash’s. Ash wants him and he’s his and Ash _wants_ him. Eiji’s fucked up and scared of the boy who died to try to save him, but Ash still wants him anyway. He’s not about to lose Ash.

_My Eiji._

“Say that again,” he begs, hoarse, trembling in Ash’s arms. “Please. Please.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Ash repeats, and rubs his back. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No—” and Eiji whimpers softly in his arms. “The—the other thing.”

“My Eiji?” Ash asks, and Eiji clutches at him and nods against his neck. “My Eiji,” Ash repeats, and strokes his fingers through his hair. “My Eiji. My lovely Eiji.”

“I’m not lovely,” Eiji whispers. He’s crying and he’s sleep-deprived and he’s a mess of tears and snot. He’s not lovely.

“Mm. Matter of opinion.” Ash’s hand rests on the back of his neck, as if to shield him from the world, and Eiji can’t help but let out another little sob at how safe Ash makes him feel. The nightmare made him wake up in terror, but the fear faded, leaving a mess of abhorrent, twisted guilt in its wake, and that gave him a whole host of new fears instead.

And yet, Ash makes him feel…

Ash makes him feel like he’s worth something. Worth staying with. Worth holding. Worth comforting.

Worth loving.

It terrifies him. It lifts him up from the absolute pits of despair so that he can breathe again, so he can gather his thoughts and calm his racing heart, and that _terrifies_ him.

“Eiji?”

Eiji takes a shaky breath, still teary. “I…”

He doesn’t deserve this. Why doesn’t Ash hate him?

Ash starts to rub his back again, a slow, small circle between his shoulder blades, and it’s soothing enough that Eiji starts to cry again, soft little sniffles this time instead of hoarse sobs. God, he hasn’t cried in someone’s arms in such a long time; he’s hidden his tears from his mother and his sister, held everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t worry about anything they couldn’t fix.

No one can fix him. He’s horrible, he’s a horrible person and a horrible friend and Shorter _died_ for him but he still wakes up scared of him, some nights, and, and… and Ash should hate him for it, but Ash is holding him and comforting him and calling him _my Eiji, my Eiji, my lovely Eiji,_ and…

“Ash,” Eiji sobs softly, clinging to him. “Ash, Ash, Ash…”

“There you go, honey.” Ash presses a gentle kiss into his hair. “Cry it out. You don’t need to hold it all in.”

“Don’t leave,” Eiji begs him. “Don’t leave me. Don’t let me go.”

Ash hugs him tighter, and Eiji notices, again, that he can feel his heartbeat. “I won’t, my Eiji. I’m never leaving you again. Not unless you want me to.”

“Never,” Eiji pledges, desperate. “Never, never, never!”

There’s a slight smile in Ash’s voice. “Guess I’m never leaving, then.”

He holds Eiji until he cries himself out, just rubbing his back, or stroking his hair, murmuring occasional sweet nothings, until Eiji’s soft sobs slow to sniffles and then to silence. Eiji clings to him, face buried in his neck, and takes a shaky breath. Ash smells like home.

Eventually, he lifts his head, looking up at Ash. Ash doesn’t say anything, just looks back at him, his eyes soft; Eiji takes another slow breath and lifts one hand, trailing his fingers along the curve of Ash’s cheek, stroking his jaw, brushing his thumb over Ash’s lips. He touches the tip of Ash’s nose, traces his brows, caresses his cheekbone and the delicate skin just below his eye, and the whole time, Ash just smiles gently and lets him.

“You really don’t hate me for this?” Eiji finally asks, voice low and shaky. “Really?”

There’s a little flicker of pain in Ash’s eyes, and he tightens his arms around Eiji. “Really. I told you, didn’t I? You couldn’t make me hate you, no matter what you said. You haven’t done anything wrong, sweetie. None of it is your fault.”

He sighs, troubled, and turns to press a kiss into Eiji’s palm. Eiji’s heart skips a beat for reasons he doesn’t understand.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ash says, again. His voice is soft. “Just because it wasn’t his fault, either, doesn’t mean it was yours.” He shakes his head, blowing out a breath. “It was theirs, for putting that shit in his brain.”

And god, if that isn’t true. Eiji squeezes his eyes shut as more tears well up, just at the memory of how Shorter _screamed_ when they injected him with that syringe. The screaming, the panicked struggles against his restraints…

“It was horrible,” Eiji whispers, and hugs Ash tight again, too. “It was _horrible.”_

“I know.” Ash buries his face in Eiji’s hair. “I know, Eiji. I believe you. I know.”

Eiji sniffles. “It was not your fault, either,” he says, after a moment, because he knows Ash, and what Ash must be thinking right now. “If it was not mine, and it was not his, it was not yours.”

Just as he thought, Ash lets out a single bark of humorless laughter. “You know me so well,” he sighs, and then rubs Eiji’s shoulder. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell myself it wasn’t my fault, if you tell yourself that it wasn’t yours, either. And that you’re allowed to be scared and fucked up about it.”

…Oh.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Eiji mumbles, and smiles slightly against his neck. It’s nothing short of a miracle that Ash makes him feel a little more like he can breathe. How does he do that?

“Take it or leave it.” Ash taps his shoulder gently, an answering smile in his voice. “Hard bargain’s the one you got.”

“Okay.” Eiji squeezes him tight. Is that really something he can do…? Tell himself it wasn’t his fault and that he’s allowed to be afraid? Seems almost too good to be true. But… for Ash… “I will… I will try.”

“That’s all I can ask, honey.” Ash kisses his hair.

Honey, he says again. Honey—as if Eiji’s golden, or sweet.

“You keep calling me things like that, today.” Eiji looks up at him, soft. Ash’s hair is messy, like he barely bothered to finger-comb it down before calling it good enough for the day; it’s endearing beyond belief. Eiji reaches up to stroke those long bangs back behind his ear, and Ash blinks at him, leaning into his touch.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Not at all.” Eiji caresses his cheek, next. “I like it.”

“Oh,” Ash says, and then more softly, “Good. I’m glad.”

Ash is being so gentle with him. It makes him think… it almost feels like… maybe he can fly again. Just a little. At the very least, he can take a leap of faith.

Eiji leans in and kisses his cheek, tentative. “Is this okay?”

Ash looks… starstruck. His eyes are soft and shiny, and he touches his cheek, looks down at his fingers like there’s some kind of remnant of Eiji’s kiss, and then breaks into a warm, radiant smile.

“Better than okay.” He bumps their noses together, then gives Eiji a squeeze. Eiji hugs him back, heart squeezing in his chest. He feels so… so… hollow, and yet stuffed to bursting with emotions he can’t name.

“Okay,” he whispers, softly, and presses his lips to Ash’s other cheek. Ash’s skin is soft to touch, and he smells vaguely like citrus. Must be his shampoo. Being this close to him is a little bit addictive. “Okay.”

“Eiji,” Ash breathes, and he turns his head, just slightly, and all Eiji would have to do to kiss him in full would be lean in. He looks at Ash’s mouth for a moment, those pink lips, slightly chapped, and thinks about it.

“You are the honey,” Eiji tells him. “Not me. You are golden, like the dawn, and you are sweet, and I am not. I am not, I am just… rainwater, or something.”

“Eiji.” Ash cups his cheek in one hand, thumb grazing over his lips. “ _Honey._ Don’t sell yourself short. You’re the sweetest thing in the world, and you’re not just like daybreak. You’re sunshine itself.”

He goes red, saying those things so earnestly, but Eiji goes red, too, cheeks heating under Ash’s hand. For a moment, Eiji can’t think of anything to say at all; he just stares at Ash, flushed and wide-eyed and completely stunned. When he does finally find his voice, what comes out isn’t at all romantic or sweet or intimate like he means for it to be; it’s just—

“Where did you get that toaster oven?”

Ash blinks.

Eiji blinks back.

“Um, I mean…”

“I went to the store and bought it,” Ash says, as if that should have been obvious from the start. “You didn’t have one.”

He woke up early, and then he went to the store to buy a toaster oven? Eiji stares at him incredulously. “Why?”

“Because you didn’t have one,” Ash repeats, giving him a funny look. “And I wanted to make you toast.”

Eiji stares at him for a moment.

Ash woke up early, despite not sleeping well because of Eiji’s stupid late-night jaunt, then decided he wanted to make Eiji a good breakfast, and instead of changing his plans when he realized that Eiji’s kitchen is a sad, barely-stocked thing these days, he went out and bought a whole new appliance.

Eiji stares at him. And stares some more.

And then tears well up in his eyes all over again, spilling down his cheeks in two hot trails. Ash’s eyes go almost comically wide with alarm, but Eiji doesn’t let him start to fuss; he just flings his arms around Ash’s neck with a tiny wail.

“Ash, Ash, _Ash,”_ he cries, clinging to him as tight as he can. “Ash!”

“I’m here!” Ash pats his back anxiously, and Eiji lets out a watery laugh that’s honestly closer to a sob. “What is it?”

“You _love_ me,” Eiji blubbers, and clutches at him. “Ash, you love me, you _do!”_

“I do!” Ash sounds relieved, laughing softly, and he blows out a breath as he rubs Eiji’s back. “I do, very much. I’m glad you know! I do love you. I do.”

“I love you, too,” Eiji sobs. Ash’s shirt is soft under his hands as he clutches two fistfuls of it, trying to get even closer than is physically possible. Despite everything, Ash loves him. Whether he should or shouldn’t, he does. He does. “Ash, Ash, Ash!”

“Oh, Eiji.” Ash holds him tight, and Eiji chokes on another little sob and coughs against him, eyes watering as he buries his face in Ash’s neck, crying and smiling and crying.

His heart is a mess, full of so many different things he doesn’t know how to begin to unpack it, but god, it’s been so, so long since anything has been able to really break through the fog that gets into his head on days like this, and for the first time in ages, he feels…

He feels hopeful.

Ash is here. Ash loves him. He admitted to being scared of Shorter (god, he’s sorry) and Ash still loves him.

“I’m here,” Ash tells him, again, and gently pries him away, just enough to caress his cheek and look at him. Eiji meets his gaze, those usually piercing green eyes soft and tender now, as if Eiji’s personally responsible for the moonrise every night. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Is it? Eiji takes a shaky breath. Is it really going to be okay?

Ash smiles at him, and… oh, he already knows the answer.

“I know it is,” he says, and manages a tiny, shaky smile back.

It feels like a victory cry.

**Author's Note:**

> true love is a toaster oven bought in the early hours of the morning.
> 
> i have a lot of feelings about eiji. and also about ash. and about asheiji. they've been through a lot, but they're gonna be okay. they have each other, and also therapy, and they're good <3
> 
> thanks for reading!
> 
> find me: [tumblr](https://eijispumpkin.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/songbirdrimi/)


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